


Kisses Like Apologies

by liam22



Category: CSI: NY
Genre: F/M, post Child's Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-12
Updated: 2008-03-12
Packaged: 2018-01-25 16:22:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1654856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liam22/pseuds/liam22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It should have been perfect.  Post Child's Play and All in the Family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kisses Like Apologies

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: Thanks to Gabby for looking over this.  
> A/N: Originally written for the Geekfiction 2008 Smutathon, but I'm about a month late. I swear, I've never meet a deadline I haven't missed.

It was their first anniversary and it should have been perfect. With a candlelit dinner, flowers, and multiple orgasms.  He wanted to fight her for the last breadstick and split some sinful chocolate dessert at the restaurant he brought her to on their first real date.  The mental image of her tongue sliding over her spoon almost had him gathering up his keys and heading for her place, without a single thought of what their boss would do if he was late to work again.  But then he remembered how he pushed her away, and the hurt look on her face and the tears she tried to hold back as she left the last time. 

She probably doesn’t want to see him now anyway.  He flopped back down on the bed at that depressing thought. They’d come so far; he didn’t want it to be over, not today, not ever. The thought of what should have been warmed him a bit. All he has now is his fantasy.

He wanted to bring her back to his place after dinner, where they would share kisses in a cab and not be able to keep their hands off each other.  He wanted to joke about condom spray and other uses for his pool table just to hear her laugh again.  He doesn’t remember the last time he made her laugh, and it hurts almost as much as the empty spot in the bed next to him.  

If things had been different, he would have peeled off her dress, the blue one.  The one she wore the day of the subway cass, he remembers that it did wonderful things for her breasts.  Underneath it, there would be a brand new set of black lingerie that she had bought with him in mind.  He would have laid her down on his bed and kissed every delectable inch of her.  She would have been able to tell how sorry he was and how he felt about her with every kiss pressed into her skin.

He should have lost himself to a passion that only she made him feel.  And she would have been right there with him, surrounding him, loving him.  Her hands would have been clutched at his back, pulling him closer for a sweet kiss as he entered her. He can practically feel her breasts against his chest and how she would have arched under him.  The memories of her only help drive him that much crazier, since she isn’t there to help slate his need. The Lindsay in his head had forgiven him without a word of apology because she knew him (much like the real Lindsay did).  

It shouldn’t be that easy (and it wouldn’t be).  He screwed up; there was no way she shouldn’t make him beg. 

But that doesn’t matter now, because in his mind she’s moaning his name; along with _‘harder’_ and _‘please’_ and _‘god, Danny’_ ; and for the life of him, he can’t remember why he ever though he didn’t need her.  

He pictures her face as she comes, bliss and love clearly shining in her eyes.  He wants to believe that he’s the only one who has seen that exact expression (and wants to do anything to make sure he’s the last to see it).  He should have been able to hold her in the afterglow and finally tell her he loved her.  He wanted to fall asleep and wake-up with her in his arms; not just now, but forever, and that thought scared him just a little too.

But he couldn’t. And he realizes now that it's his fault entirely.  He's the one that pushed her away, the one that ignored her.  She was just trying to help, but he couldn't let her see him like that.  It was his fault; he broke their relationship.  He's the only one who will be able to fix it. 

Instead of a night of romantic mischief, they got a triple homicide, with piles of evidence to process and still no suspect in reach.  Everyone they’ve questioned today has been a major asshole, but no one has annoyed him more than newbie cop that kept hitting on Lindsay (she was _his_ , damn it. They hadn’t actually broken up yet.) He knew he had to do something soon. He couldn’t let this just get away from him. 

To top it all off, she looked exhausted and he was willing to bet that that was his fault too.  She was barely talking to him, barely smiling at any of his jokes.  Yet every once and awhile, he caught her looking at him wistfully, in a way he hadn’t seen since right before she left for Montana.  Maybe he still had a chance, god he hoped so.

By the time Mac finally sent them home, they’d missed his reservation at that Italian place she liked so much (although, he’s yet to get the nerve to tell her about it).  Any replacement dinner plans are forgotten when he took his first good look at her: she looks like all she wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep for a week.

Why hadn’t he noticed earlier?  Why hadn’t he been able to take better care of her?  Why should she even want him back if he’s this oblivious?

“Let me take you home?” He asked nervously, he shuffled his feet and tried to fight the guilt at the awkwardness he put between them.

“I’m fine, Danny.  You don’t need to.”  Her voice broke a little on ‘fine’ and he really wanted to contradict her.  

“Please, Montana,” He practically begged and it was the closest he could get to _‘I’m sorry’_.  She looked, surprised at the use of her nickname and bit her bottom lip in indecision.  Had it really it really been that long since he called her that?

She stared at him for a moment, eyes searching his.  She must have found what she was looking for because she nodded in agreement and offered him her hand.  

It was start.  He still needed to say the words (and they would come eventually).  

This wasn't something that could be solved with a kiss.

 


End file.
